


Protect and cherish

by Elisexyz



Series: Pre-canon Flinthamilton [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Thomas is alright with rumours about him or his marriage, both him and Miranda are used to managing them. He's much lessalrightwith people insulting James within his earshot.





	Protect and cherish

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this Tumblr prompt](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/186658650509/i-love-your-flintham-ffs-can-you-write-london-era). Thomas is a very protective soon-to-be boyfriend. <strike>which is good, because James is a smol bean that must be protected at all costs</strike>

They are only a few words uttered under the man’s breath, likely meant only for the ear of his companion, and it’s by chance that Thomas hears the insult, his eyes instantly moving from Miranda and landing on Lord Russell’s face.

“—some piece of cannon fodder in events where he shouldn’t even allowed to set foot—” 

Thomas’ heart skips a beat, his cheeks immediately eating up in outrage and something squeezing his chest tight, and he starts turning around, with every intention of making the man _regret_ disrespecting his home and his guest without even having the decency to make sure that it wouldn’t reach the wrong ears, but a firm hand on his arm stops him.

For a moment, he expect it to belong to his wife, because of course she would be sensible enough to try and discourage him from starting a brawl at the most inappropriate of times, but when he turns, awfully tempted to argue his case with a pleading look – _Just this once, my dear, I’ll gladly deal with the fallout_ –, he finds that it was James instead.

“It’s no matter,” he assures, squeezing his arm slightly and wearing a stoic look on his face, like he’s merely trying to pass on an unavoidable fact of life. It makes Thomas’ stomach shrink.

“It is a _very_ important matter,” he tries to argue, his eyes turning to Miranda for a moment, even though he suspects what she’ll think of it. She gives him a questioning look, because apparently the words hadn’t reached her.

James snorts. “I’ve heard much worse, my Lord, believe me,” he says, like _that_ is supposed to be reassuring. Or calming. It is neither of those things, if anything Thomas is even _more_ enraged at this point.

James shouldn’t consider any of this to be _normal_, he shouldn’t have to stand for it.

(And yes, Thomas is the first to have a rotten reputation and not care about the whispers behind his back, but that’s just _it_, people seem to respect him enough to at least wait until he isn’t in the room to start spewing their poison.)

(It should be made clear that no one is to refer to James with any less respect than they would a lord, not in _his_ presence.)

“Well, not in my home,” Thomas declares, defiantly. A glance at Miranda confirms that she has managed to understand the gist of what is happening and that she’s aware that he won’t be kept from speaking up about it, and she’s likely already trying to assess the consequences of what is about to happen.

Thomas doesn’t waste any more time before turning right around, completely ignoring James hissing his name to try and stop him, parading his brightest and fakest smile instead.

“_Gentlemen_,” he says, pleasantly, catching the attention of the pair, loud enough to make a few heads turn around as well. Lord Russel’s eyes dart to James, standing right next to him and possibly vibrating with how much he thinks this is unnecessary, and Thomas moves a small step to his left, barely resisting the urge to physically force the man to take his eyes off him. “I believe it’s time for Lord Russel to get his lovely wife and get out of my house.”

“I—” he stutters, evidently taken aback, his attention thankfully back on Thomas. “I beg your pardon?” he hisses, almost a challenge, and Thomas would just _love_ to throw him out without any further explanation. But then again, the point of this is to make a statement.

“I am not in the habit of tolerating any disrespect directed at my guests,” Thomas says, tightly. “Even less so when my _guest_ happens to be an estimated member of our Royal Navy, someone who has fought and still fights for liberties that you happily enjoy while daring to insult him.” Lord Russel seems to be about to protest, and Thomas only fixes him with a cold look. “I suggest that you apologize and leave at once. I will not be asking again.”

Honestly, a part of him _is_ kind of hoping that he will oppose some resistance and allow him the satisfaction of throwing a punch in his face – not that Thomas is much good in a fight, but he is willing to bet that it’d be worth the satisfaction no matter the result; not to mention, James would probably intervene sooner rather than later, and the tide would turn in his favour then.

Instead, Lord Russel mutters through his teeth what with a little bit of imagination could be considered a passable apology, his eyes pointedly avoiding both him and James as he heads to his wife to leave.

“I sincerely hope no one else has a problem with Lieutenant McGraw’s presence here,” Thomas eventually adds, addressing the whole room. “Otherwise, please, feel free to follow.”

Of course, no one takes him up on it, whatever their true feelings on the matter.

(Thomas is willing to bet that, in under five minutes, he will have people walk over and muster up an exaggerated dose of outrage while claiming to be appalled by Lord Russel’s behaviour. High society can be annoyingly predictable at times.)

“That was rather dramatic,” Miranda comments, with an affectionate shake of her head and a smile tugging at her lips, betraying the satisfaction that she has drawn from this as well.

Thomas smiles back. “Perhaps. But entirely necessary.” He turns to James as he says it, because he is the one who needs to let the concept sink in. There will be no disrespect headed his way, not if Thomas has anything to say about it.

James snorts, bowing his head slightly, on his face a smile that seems awfully genuine. “I am inclined to disagree,” he highlights. “But thank you, I appreciated your words.”

When James raises his eyes on him, Thomas stares right back, probably for a little longer than would be appropriate in an every day conversation, his stomach fluttering as he notices the slight colour on James’ cheeks. Thomas’ smile widens, and he reaches over to amicably squeeze James’ shoulder, under Miranda’s— ah, Miranda’s _far_ too knowing gaze. Somehow, she always knows.

(With the way his heart fills whenever James looks his way, Thomas thinks it’s a wonder that the _world_ doesn’t see it.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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